Whatever you say, Johnny
by UnexpectedNudity
Summary: SLASH ConstantineBalthazar. Constantine may hate the greedy, despicable, halfbreed set, but still he seems to be always running into them. Every turn finds him in just this situation... MATURE, ONESHOT


In John Constantine's opinion, there is nothing more fucking irritating than a smug demon, or half demon, in Balthazar's case.

"What're you going to do, Johnny boy? Deport me? All I'm doing is standing here," the half-breed said, taking a step towards the exorcist, hands outstretched in a mockery of innocence. John thought he'd choke on the sleaze.

"You seem to think I won't," he sneered, pulling a special piece of weaponry from his overcoat. Sure, it'd smear a human all over the pavement, but it'd do just fine by a demon too. Balthazar sighed exaggeratedly, and pushed the muzzle aside with his palm.

"Tsk tsk John," he said. "Don't forget that delicate balance of ours." Constantine snarled.

"Fuck you and your balance!" he fumed, and cracked the butt of his gun across Balthazar's face. He had had just about enough of the mockery both sides were making of the whole fucking situation. The half-breed's head jerked to the side with a satisfying snap, but he didn't fall. Slowly, he turned his head back towards Constantine, playful expression gone, lip split.

"Johnny…" he said softly, wiping at the blood. "That was a mistake." Before Constantine could retort, he was silenced by a strong, brutal hand at his throat. Balthazar squeezed, forcing the infuriated exorcist backwards until he could smack John's head against the back wall of an apartment building. Constantine struggled, gasping, as his windpipe constricted, depriving him of the little air he could get into his already abused lungs. "You know hitting me does no good, exorcist," Balthazar said. "Such a pitiful attempt at hurting a demon… pathetic."

"Half-breed fuck," Constantine rasped. Balthazar laughed as Constantine's vision grayed around the edges, failing to notice the humans fumbling hands, surreptitiously searching through his pockets.

"Oh John, name-calling won't work either."

"Not like this does," Constantine managed to reply. Balthazar had the grace to look slightly perplexed before the exorcist pressed the cross of a silver rosary to his tan throat. His eyes flashed red and he shrieked in surprise, leaping away from the holy article, his skin sizzling angrily. Constantine fell to his knees, coughing, as blessed air flooded his lungs. He allowed himself less recovery time than he would have liked, however, as he knew full well that, though a burn from a sanctified cross would have been a shock, and hurt like a motherfucker, it would hardly incapacitate.

"Now that, Balthazar, was a mistake," he rasped, getting to his feet. Balthazar's eyes were sharp and dark with anger from where the half-breed was crouched, hand to his wound. Constantine shoved him with his foot, hard, spilling Balthazar forward onto his stomach. Planting a foot between demon shoulder blades, Constantine pinned him down, crouching just enough to push the crucifix against the back of his bared neck. Balthazar writhed under him as the cross seared into his flesh, but refused to make another noise, other than a furious snarl. Constantine cleared his throat before speaking, not wanting to taunt the fucker with a weak, abused voice.

"What's this, Balthazar? No moaning for me?" he said derisively, pulling aside the demon's sport coat and shirt to mark his shoulder. Balthazar hissed through his teeth.

"You want to hear me moan? You'll have to do better than that, Johnny boy – Ah!" Constantine slid his tongue over the burn on Balthazar's neck, while he reached back into his coat full of tricks.

"Be careful what you wish for, half-breed," he said, grabbing Balthazar's hands and binding them together with a delicate silver chain Beeman had given him the previous week. Truth be told, he'd actually been waiting for an excuse to try it out. "This fucking thing had better work," Constantine mumbled, imagining Balthazar breaking the links and ripping his throat out. Wrenching Balthazar to his feet, he pushed the demon into the wall he'd been choked against, and pressed Balthazar's face into it. "You thought that was pretty fucking hilarious, didn't you?" he snarled, pushing Balthazar harder against the wall with his body. Everybody seemed to think strangling him was motherfucking _classic_.

Balthazar shuddered. It was a minute movement, hardly noticeable, but Constantine felt it just fine. "Never know how you hell freaks are going to react to pain, huh Balthy?" he asked, and raked his nails over one of the cross-shaped welts. Balthazar choked, fingers scrabbling at Constantine's coat pressed against them where they were trapped. Constantine smirked cruelly, half pleased, half disgusted at the demon's mixed reactions.

"Johnny-" Balthazar husked.

"What?" Constantine interjected sharply, voice low and hissed into Balthazar's ear. "Am I doing better yet?" He was suddenly grateful for the late hour. He wouldn't want to be caught in such a compromising position by a wandering businessman. Or angel, for that matter. He could just see it- Welcome to hell you suicidal faggot! He sneered in hatred and disgust, and bit into the tendons of Balthazar's neck, reaching under his shirt to brand the cross into Balthazar's hip. This time, the half-breed did moan. It was so laden with the sin and depravity of hell that Constantine nearly retched at his own reaction to it. Despite his better judgment, Constantine let his hand brush down past Balthazar's belt buckle, to feel the definite hardness there. He rolled his fingers.

"Johnny boy," Balthazar's voice was harsh, strained, and he pushed back into Constantine's weight behind him. "You aren't supposed to want..." Despite the demon's position, Constantine could clearly identify a note of amusement and arrogance in his words. Constantine nearly snarled-

"And you aren't supposed to be a raging masochistic faggot! Oh wait," he pulled the demon's hips back against his, and let the crucifix fall behind one tan ear, making Balthazar gasp and arch. "Yes you are."

"Tease," Balthazar groaned, fists clenched in the exorcist's coat. Constantine pulled him back from the wall for a fraction of a second, before slamming him forward.

"You can cut the perverted bullshit, half-breed," he growled, as Balthazar's cheekbone started to bleed. "I am not in the mood. So why don't you just shut," he flexed his fingers, "the fuck," Balthazar's breath hitched, "up." His legs spread minutely.

"Whatever you say, Johnny boy," the half-breed said, eyes pulsing red and meeting Constantine's over his shoulder.

There was a brief pause, before Constantine spun Balthazar to face him, seized his hair, and crushed their mouths together. Their teeth clashed, and Balthazar's split lip reopened. Constantine made a tiny noise in the back of his throat as he tasted blood, not sure himself what he thought about it.

Balthazar, mistaking this action as a truce, tried to take control of the kiss, pushing his forked tongue into Constantine's mouth with sinful skill. Constantine released his hair to free both hands, ripping Balthazar's shirt open, and searing the rosary into his bared chest. Balthazar made a sound into the exorcist's mouth. An unexpected, high pitched keen that set Constantine's blood alight. He broke the kiss, and mouthed the newest brand.

"Fuck, Constantine, untie me!"

Balthazar arched sharply at the harsh sting of teeth.

"I don't think you're in the position to be demanding anything, half-breed," Constantine said, mouth at the crook of the tan neck. He gripped the demon's jaw violently, sickly pleased at Balthazar's loss of smug composure. "I'd rather deport you and shoot myself than take off that chain."

"Would you rather deport me than take me back to your place?" the demon asked, somehow having recovered his coy, infuriating attitude for the moment. Constantine seized Balthazar's throat, just below the jaw, and squeezed. Letting his mouth hover just above Balthazar's, he murmured,

"What did I just say?" lips brushing with every word. Balthazar nodded, his eyes flashing red again even as he made such a submissive gesture. Balthazar's throat worked under Constantine's hand, skin hot- hotter than any human's could be- and Constantine relaxed his grip, stroking his thumb into the hollow of the demon's throat. Keeping his mouth where it hovered above Balthazar's, he dropped his hands to the front of the half-breed's slacks, and worked open the belt, button, and zipper. He could feel the changes in Balthazar's breathing as he worked, subtle, excited hitches and exhales. The half-breed's legs spread under his hands. "Doesn't really take much to bend you over, does it half-breed?" Constantine sneered as he pushed his fingers into Balthazar's tented briefs. "You take it for Lucifer too?" He bit Balthazar's ear, making a fist and yeah, he could admit it, teasing the demon: jacking him off. Balthazar's hips jerked in time with Constantine's hand, trapped fists scrabbling at the bricks behind him.

"Uhnnmm… Johnny… you should know… mmmnh… _Lucifer_ likes to take it from _me_." Constantine didn't doubt it. He got the flash of an image: Lucifer, bent half over Balthazar's "corporate powerhouse" desk, hellish tattoos exposed as Balthazar brutally thrust into him. He yanked sharply on the legs of Balthazar's slacks, freeing them from his hips. Balthazar managed to wriggle them the rest of the way to the dirty pavement of the alley as Constantine worked his own belt loose, not bothering with stripping any more than necessary.

"That's enough," Constantine interjected as soon as Balthazar had gotten one leg free. "Get on your knees." Balthazar hesitated briefly, not wanting to look like a total fool, but reasoned that future encounters would end more favorably, and less bondage oriented (at least bondage of himself) if he did as he was told for the moment. He dropped to the pavement, and immediately found himself eye to eye with the great, fearsome, demon-killer exorcist's impressively erect cock. He couldn't deny the watering in his mouth.

Constantine felt his manhood throb as Balthazar sunk to his knees, his vision going red for a second with the sheer blood-lust-turned-perversion flooding him. Balthazar looked up at him with dark, dilated eyes, and licked his lips.

His brain not lacking quite enough blood to have completely robbed him of sense, Constantine pressed his cross-emblazoned handgun to Balthazar's temple.

"I swear to god if you do anything to my dick I'll blow your fucking head off," he said. Balthazar flicked his tongue over the head before responding.

"Whatever you say," he reiterated, letting his breath whoosh out over the dampness he'd left behind, before letting Constantine sink into the velvety, fever-heat of his mouth. Constantine had to brace himself against the wall with his free hand to stay steady, Balthazar hollowing his cheeks and – dear god – that forked _tongue_. He should've guessed Balthazar would suck cock like a fucking professional. Constantine closed his eyes, but managed to keep the gun to Balthazar's head despite the fact that his awareness of the world outside this and now was being sucked out of him like venom from a bite.

"Stop," Constantine ordered. "Uhnn… I said _stop_." Balthazar swallowed around him once more before releasing the man. He smacked his lips.

"Problem, Johnny?" he husked, and shifted his knees on the gravelly, rough concrete. He decided to push his luck. "Want to untie me?" Constantine snorted as he stuck his weapon back into his coat pocket, took Balthazar by the collar of his open shirt, and hauled him to his feet.

"Don't think so, half-breed," he replied, and in a moment had hoisted Balthazar up with a hand under his bare thigh, and coaxed one demonic ankle over his shoulder, Balthazar's other leg supported with his knee secured in the crook of Constantine's elbow. Once again Constantine was treated to a brief flash of surprise in Balthazar's now consistantly hell-red eyes. Constantine smirked cruelly, noting that though he was still fully hard, Balthazar's length felt like tempered steel where it was pressed between them.

"You ready, Balthazar?" he asked, not really knowing why. Hell, it wouldn't have mattered to Constantine if the demon had suddenly started fighting- telling him to stop- fucking screaming bloody murder- the exorcist would still have had his way at this point. But Balthazar didn't do any of those things. Instead, flexing his legs around Constantine's body and urging the exorcist's cock to slide across his entrance, he said,

"Absolutely," sounding almost desperate.

Balthazar's saliva eased the way just enough when Constantine braced himself against the wall and sunk hilt-deep into the demon's willing mortal body. Just enough to ensure a pain-free ride for Constantine, that is. Judging by Balthazar's throaty, depraved moans and the way the demon arched, it was hurting him plenty. And the half-breed was fucking loving it. Latching onto Balthazar's bobbing Adam's apple as he pistoned his hips, Constantine had a brief moment of regret at having dropped his rosary somewhere along the line, settling instead for sinking his teeth into one of the angry red welts, listening to Balthazar's cacophony of cursing – His cry of:

"_Harder_."

"Whatever… nnh… you say," Constantine replied, parodying Balthazar's earlier concessions and reminding him just how much of a submissive he'd become in the span of only a few minutes. Where was his arrogance now?

"_Fuck_ you, Exorcist," Balthazar gasped, then, as Constantine shifted the angle of his hips, "_Mother of God_, Johnny, right there-" Murmuring against the demon's increasingly heated flesh, John couldn't help but reply.

"God… didn't have a… single… fucking… finger… in your… creation… Balthazar," he managed, words punctuated by the harshness of his breathing and the few gasped sounds that managed to escape him. Balthazar arched like a bow when Constantine's hand found his member, contrasting the brutal fuck with slow, deliberate strokes.

Suddenly, Constantine was struck with the thought that Balthazar's noise level was getting out of hand, and reaching the point where it would guarantee they'd be caught.

"_Shut up, you fucker_," Constantine hissed, and covered Balthazar's mouth with his own. The demon's tongue was almost too hot as Constantine sucked at it, almost as scalding as the come that pulsed over Constantine's fingers. The demon's climax shuddered through him in an electric wave, and Constantine was forced after as Balthazar's muscles rippled intoxicatingly around him. Constantine's impulse was to moan Balthazar's name as his orgasm tore through him, but he refused, and settled instead for a nonsensical, cigarette-roughened string of profanity. He collapsed against the wall.

"Jesus," he muttered. He could feel Balthazar's chest heaving. In the wake of his climax, everything seemed hazy and soft. The sounds of traffic were dampened and the darkness was velveteen. Balthazar's skin was hot and smooth, a direct tactile contrast to the cold, rough wall under his palm. Balthazar's voice was deep.

"Johnny boy…" he started, but Constantine cut him off.

"Don't say a word," he said, pulling out and dropping Balthazar's legs from around him. The demon fell heavily back against the wall, only just shy of sinking to the ground. "Don't you say a goddamn word."

Not wasting a moment for pleasantries, Constantine tucked himself back into his pants and, stooping to retrieve Balthazar's slacks from the pavement, wiped his hands clean on them before straitening his shirt and tie. He tossed the abused clothing back at Balthazar, saying,

"Clean yourself up. You look like a used whore."

"Exorcist…" Balthazar said, flexing his arms where they were still trapped. "Wanna give me a hand?" He stood up from the wall and turned around, presenting Constantine with a view of the silver chain, and (not so subtly) Balthazar's backside. Constantine rolled his eyes, and would've left right then had he not had the feeling he'd want that particular artifact at his disposal again. He retrieved the gun from his coat for the third time, and pressed it to the base of Balthazar's skull. He'd be damned if he let the demon get the jump on him now.

"No post-coital cuddling for a man like you, huh Johnny?" Balthazar said as his hands were released. He turned, flexing his fingers and working his arms to relieve the stiff ache.

"Shut up, half-breed," Constantine replied as he lit a cigarette, gun still pointed in Balthazar's face.

"Next time then." Balthazar took a step forward, disregarding the weapon now settled threateningly under his chin as he invaded the exorcist's personal space. Now that he had his hands back, he was very tempted to…

"There won't be a next time," Constantine replied. When Balthazar stepped yet closer, sliding a hand up the exorcist's chest, he noted the curl of disgust in Constantine's lip with pleasure.

"Mmmm… Johnny boy…" he purred, breathing in the smoke Constantine exhaled. "That's what you said last time." Constantine scowled. Opened his mouth to retort. And was gone in a whirl of overcoat and the lingering scent of soap, sex, and cigarettes.

"Bye bye, John," Balthazar murmured to himself as he gathered his clothes, irritated at the soiled state of them.

If Balthazar was worth his stripes as an influence peddler, and he was, John Constantine would be beating off to him for months. And the great exorcist's spot in hell was cemented already. Such a blasphemous, suicidal, violent man should know better than to bareback demons in dirty alleyways on his nights off. He was fucked, and Balthazar could hardly hold his hunger for that day. If nothing else, Johnny couldn't bring his little trinkets down to hell with him. Johnny couldn't tie his hands.


End file.
